Today's a sad day.

Midnite was a little kitten, slightly bigger than my palm when she first ventured into the office. I was alone that day, when she came by and so took her in, got her some kitten food and let her sleep in my lap. After a few minutes, she climbed out of my lap and into my in-tray, where she occupied about one-quarter the space. And so for the next few months, she kept coming into the office for food and a little attention and we watched as she grew from a wide-eyed frisky litttle kitten into a beautiful, jet-black cat with bright green eyes. She carried herself very regally but would occassionally become a little kitten again as she teased Chubby, our resident cat. She would leap at him from the corner sofa, try to scratch him, play with him and then curl up and go to sleep next to him on the sofa.
A few weeks back, we realised that Midnite was pregnant. A short while before that, we'd seen her father, the big, black, mean-looking cat, try to mount her. She ran and ran but wasn't fast enough. It was incest.in its basest form.

Little Midnite died today.

As we were going for lunch today, we saw her at the exact same moment, lying face-down in the drain. It was a horrible sight, her neck twisted in such an unnatural way, her fur wet and matted, flies encircling her carcass, beginning to smell death. Because of all the construction around, we decided that it would be impossible to bury her, though we wanted to.

So finally, I called the town council. They'll come. pick her up and dump her in the dustbin.
That's the end of our little Midnite. And she was still pregnant.

The town council man just came and I had to show him where she'd lying. As he left to "deal with the cat" 3 ambulance men rushed past wheeling a really frail. sick looking old man in a wheelchair.

What a morbid day.  ¶ 6:34 pm

  Do you ever feel down without knowing why? I do. I used to as a child, usually when I had to do Maths homework, or memorise the leaves of Mango trees, Jacaranda trees, which fruits were poisonous, which trees grew in the mangrove swamps - all out of a little orange textbook. All these memories of school, textbooks and homework are tinged shades of dull grey, dirty green and muddy brown - all the dullest colours I can possible think of. They were by no means happy times. I remember being so scared of Maths and Science and of exams. And yet, when I talk to my mother, she remembers me as a happy child. Maybe we only remember what we want to? Or maybe I was such a good actress that I portrayed only what I felt others wanted to see. I do remember the good bits as well, of course. No childhood is so bleak that it's all grey. There were bits of red and yellow and bright parrot-green too. The netball games after school, the dramas on stage, the birthday parties, presents, food, games, laughter. Those were all good. But somehow, in my memory, those are overshadowed by the greys and browns. I remember wasting as much time as I could when it the time came to take my Maths homework to my dad. I would rummage through my bags, my study table, pretending that I had lost my book because I was so afraid that I'd done my work wrong and that I wouldn't understand how to do it right. I remember spending so many evenings playing by myself in a make-belief world of fairies, gnomes, elves and the people of the Faraway Tree. I remember a stupid game that I invented. Each time I got a new gift, I would hold it in my hand, stretch my hand out of the window of our 16th floor apartment and wave it at the world. Thinking that everyone else in all the neighbouring apartments would see my new present. I would show it to them and say "see...look at this lovely purse that daddy got for me from Japan."

I remember that purse. It was a lovely, soft, green leather coin purse. I put a dollar note( a large amount of money when you're 7 yrs old) in it, waved it at the world, and promptly dropped it. 16 floors down.
I rushed dowstairs to look for my pretty purse. But I never found it. My sister still has hers - her lovely, soft red leather Japanese purse.

Some days when something else has brought me down i think of the past. I know I shouldn't do it, but sometimes it all comes back and I indulge in a little bit of self-pity.

Looking back at this entry, I feel perhaps I feel sad because I remember the sad bits more. Maybe I dwell on them. Maybe if I didn't, and remembered more of the happy bits, I'd be a happier preson...

Even now, I shouldn't dwell on the fact that everyone's gone, everyone's growing older and more tired by the year...maybe I should just concentrate on what I have now. And enjoy it before its too late...
I don't know...that's easier said than done tho...but I guess I could try....
  ¶ 9:51 pm